


May I keep him?

by Elisexyz



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Getting Together, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Jaskier reaches him in a few big strides, tears spilling everywhere and a disbelieving grin on his face. Then, Geralt finds himself with an armful of weeping bard and little choice but embracing him back.Or Geralt has a crisis that can be summed up with: "Fellas, is it gay if your bro kisses you on the lips?"
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 129
Kudos: 537





	May I keep him?

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Geralt and Yennefer got out of the Mayor's house without hooking up ~~(sorry, Yen, hopefully you had fun with someone else, love you)~~. Then Geralt tries (sleep deprivation induced) self-reflection and it works out surprisingly well.

As soon as he comes into view, Jaskier’s eyes widen, a choked sound leaving his mouth as he scrambles on his feet. He looks flustered and shocked enough to be concerning, enough to make Geralt wonder, for a moment, if there is some _other_ danger that he should be worrying about, on top of everything else, because this day hasn’t been long enough already.

“Geralt!”

Jaskier reaches him in a few big strides, tears spilling everywhere and a disbelieving grin on his face. Then, Geralt finds himself with an armful of weeping bard and little choice but embracing him back.

Being probably the _least_ comforting person in the whole Continent, once he has gotten a strong and hopefully reassuring enough hold of him Geralt has precisely no idea what to do. Jaskier is shaking and sobbing against his shoulder, fingernails digging into his back and his heart possibly trying to break out of his ribcage, and Geralt is just standing stiffly, slowing patting his back because _what the fuck is he supposed to do_.

That drags a laugh out of Jaskier, hysterical as it may be, and he draws back, eyes meeting Geralt’s as he sets his hands firmly on his shoulders. He beams at him, his eyes red and puffy, snot coming out of his nose and tear tracks all over his cheeks.

Geralt’s stomach clenches, and he isn’t sure why.

Jaskier brings his hands up to cup his face, trembling a little as he moves close enough that they are almost touching and he says: “I thought you were _dead_!”

Geralt blinks at him, swallowing through the lump in his throat. “I’m alive,” he gets out, gruffly, with not much else to say.

Jaskier grins from ear to ear. “I _know_!” he all but yells, overly enthusiastic, even bouncing a little on his feet. In the same breath, he leans forward, kissing Geralt full on the mouth with a deafening wet sound, before pulling him back into another hug, somehow tighter than before.

What the fuck.

As if to purposefully not give him time to process what just happened, Jaskier begins filling the silence with his usual chatter, about the djinn and how he needs to know everything that happened and how they should _totally_ go find Roach and get away from that cursed place — by the time Geralt turns around, Yennefer is gone, which stings an awful lot like disappointment, and there is nothing keeping him from just following Jaskier’s lead, not all too fond of the place himself anyway.

By they time they have Roach, they have cleaned up and they have agreed to get away from civilization to make camp somewhere quiet (“I will not be spending another second of my life in this wrenched place! It has horrible vibes, I’m shuddering all over, see?” Jaskier said instead of trying to talk him into staying somewhere with a roof for a few days), Jaskier is still talking.

Jaskier is still talking _a lot_ , like he is afraid to stop, moving around like a restless child in need of working out his energy.

Ordinarily, Geralt would be at the very least mildly irritated by all that meaningless chatter and moving around making a lot of unnecessary noise – one moment Jaskier is kicking a rock, then he’s sitting down to play a few notes, then he’s scratching Roach’s neck, then he’s kicking rocks again, then he’s stomping around for no reason, and so on with no end in sight –, but every time he thinks of telling him to shut the fuck up a part of him that sounds a lot like Vesemir reprimands _careful what you wish for, boy_ , and he’s too busy mulling over what happened to pay full attention to Jaskier’s ramblings anyway.

Jaskier is an affectionate man. There has been a great deal of touching over the years, and Geralt has grown used to it, he has never minded too much beyond the initial unfamiliarity of it, truth be told, so perhaps if he tried he could tell himself that Jaskier kissing him was just _that_.

Just another way to express affection and friendship, perhaps an _unusual_ way because of the near-death experience, but innocent nonetheless.

Except Jaskier is being so fucking _weird_.

The too much talking and restless pacing could be easily explained away as a freak-out prompted by the fact that he almost died, and if it were only that Geralt would leave it alone, but Jaskier keeps giving him these _looks_ , stopping for a second and staring at him as his eyes a few times quite clearly went down, possibly to his mouth – most _definitely_ to his mouth, one time or two –, and, well. If Geralt had to take a guess he’d say that he is not the only one still thinking about this.

It doesn’t necessarily follow that it meant anything: Jaskier might simply be worried that his little overenthusiastic greeting has made things awkward, that it will prove to be a problem.

If that’s the case, there’s really nothing to worry about, Geralt has had — _practice_ , keeping himself in line.

He is not stupid, he knows that he has been attracted to Jaskier for quite a while now, and he knows that the man had been very interested since when he first laid eyes on him, but at first he figured that Jaskier would do something about it if he wanted to, and Geralt would have been happy to scratch that itch. There was a time when he was practically waiting for the day, eager for the bard to satisfy his curiosity and then _leave_.

But then Jaskier always seemed to be more than happy sleeping around, he never made an actual move in his direction and Geralt, fucking idiot as he is, got attached. They grew close, Geralt got used to him, and he ended up not actually _wanting_ to cut to the chase, not wanting to break that little spell that they found themselves under.

Things seemed to have found some kind of equilibrium, and Jaskier was still there and eager as ever to follow him around, greeting him with bright smiles and enthusiasm whenever they reunited after winter, and no night of sex was worth making a mess of things.

He'd have still said yes, had Jaskier asked, but he found himself kind of dreading the thought, or better, the idea of what would come _after_.

The tingling that he feels under his skin after the kiss, if it can be so called, feels a little different, making something in his stomach burn harder than it has in a long time, but he’s tired and it’s probably just the crossing of boundaries that reawakened his attraction, not to mention that Jaskier almost died today. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have an handle on it.

But fuck, Jaskier almost _died_ today.

And now there he stands, at so short a distance from him, gesturing widely as he’s somehow worked his way into a rant about Yennefer and how utterly terrifying she was – not a wrong assessment, maybe a little too unflattering in a way – and Geralt just _really_ wants to stand up and be the one to yank him into a kiss this time.

Whatever his worries for tomorrow and potential disasters and whatever, there might not _be_ a tomorrow, he might make some other stupid mistake and lose Jaskier to it, and this might be just what he needs to convince himself that he did _not_ , not this time around, that he’s still there, very real under his fingers, and fuck, he’s way too tired for this —

“— and _seriously_ , I really thought you were dead, the whole place was _pulverized_ , it was very epic by the way, would have made for a fine ballad — it still might, actually, it’d probably have less of an emotional impact seeing as you did survive it — not that I’m complaining in the slightest! Honestly, I was already picturing my bleak, _terrible_ life missing my very best friend so deeply every day, _then_ I truly would have died a broken-hearted —”

Geralt blames the sleep deprivation. And the worry. And his throbbing headache after listening to even a short chunk of Jaskier’s ramblings.

(And perhaps also the warmth in his chest when Jaskier insisted that he’d have missed him so much.)

He stands up, closes the distance between them in a stride with no clear thought to what he is doing, just that he _wants_ it, and he cuts off Jaskier’s speech by firmly pressing his lips against his.

It’s not exactly a proper kiss, more two mouths smashed together with very little warning, Geralt’s fingers clutching Jaskier’s arms to keep him close, but as he regains enough of his wits to curse internally and attempt a retreat – even as something in him pushes for more –, Jaskier’s hand runs up to the back of his head, and with _that_ every thought of flight vanishes.

Jaskier pulls him back towards him, circling his waist with one arm and smiling against his mouth, and Geralt thinks he might burn alive with every huff of breath against his face, and that he was a _fucking idiot_ for waiting this long. Jaskier kisses him like he has been waiting to do it his whole life, like he wants nothing better than that closeness, and Geralt relishes in his warmth, thinks _he’s still here_ and _may I keep him_ and he almost swoons when happiness and fear rumble inside him at once.

Then there’s salt, _tears_ , and horror strikes through him, through every other thought he had, his eyes snapping open as he moves to pull away, a ‘fuck, I’m so sorry’ already on the tip of his tongue.

Except Jaskier is still holding onto him, and he’s smiling, chuckling weakly through the tears when he catches sight of Geralt’s face. He pointedly grips him tighter, closing that inch of distance that Geralt managed to put between them, and the hand tangled in his hair moves to his cheek, Jaskier lightly running his thumb against it.

“I promise I’m not going to cry every time we kiss,” he says, and though his voice cracks a little he looks so _happy_ , smells so sweet. Then a pause, a frown. “Well, provided that you don’t keep seemingly dying on me, that is.”

Geralt snorts, lets _every time we kiss_ echo in his head and hope build a nest into his chest, thinks _I’m so fucked_ and then just kisses Jaskier again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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